Her
by chattypandagurl
Summary: [ONE SHOT] Her? You married her, the woman who murdered me! Sharon encounters Tyrol on New Caprica for the first time since her death.


Summery: "Her? You married _her_, the bitch who murdered me!" Sharon encounters Tyrol on New Caprica for the first time since her death. One-shot.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from _Battlestar Galactica. _

* * *

Sharon Valerii left the "presidential suite" with Five, knowing that Six will want her alone time with Baltar. Sharon had been perfectly calm throughout the exchange, but inside, she felt a wave of nerves fluttering inside her. 

_Chief, _she thought wistfully. Was he even still alive? Had he moved on? _Listen to myself, _Sharon scoffed, _Acting like some hormonal teenage human. _She'd always thought she had been, once, but have now known for a long time that she has never had a childhood.

But she was positive that she loved Tyrol. Machine or not, human emotions were not lost on her, despite the Cylons' vigorous attempts to wash any stain of humanity from their models.

Hopefully, this will change. With the help of the Cylons, they will bring back order to the surviving humans, and they could live peacefully together.

Humanity just needed to have a chance to see the Cylon side of things.

Sharon shook her head as she stepped outside, inwardly cringing at the terrified, repulsed looks on the faces of the New Caprican citizens. It amazed her that still, after more than a year of knowing, of embracing, her identity as a Cylon, the humans' rejection of her still stung horribly.

If Tyrol was alive . . . if he rejected her . . . she didn't know what she'd do. Well, she probably deserved it at any rate–she was a frakking toaster, after all.

Still, she, along with Six, stopped the Cylon occupation of Caprica because of him. He, along with her fellow pilots and_ Galactica _crew, allowed her for a brief time to see humanity for what they were –living, breathing people, not filth that needed to be exterminated.

If only they'd realize that about Cylons.

The centurion guard marched in front and behind her, displaying their power and domination in lavish form. Suddenly, a bright blonde head caught her eye. Sharon's eyes widened as she recognized Starbuck –but she was different. She seemed more haggard, sluggish, almost. New Caprica was definitely not the Earth that they had dreamed of.

But it was who was standing next to her that caused Sharon to stop dead in her tracks, stomach fluttering in panic, forgetting the image she was supposed to be portraying.

Tyrol looked at her with a flash of wistful longing in his eyes, but there was no love. He probably thought she was just another copy, another blood-thirsty toaster.

She locked eyes with him, tried to place all of her dormant love for him in her steady gaze, in her eyes. She watched as his eyes lit up in recognition. Did he remember? Did he recognize her?

As Five touched her shoulder gently, Sharon awoke out of her memories with a jolt. Nodding, she tore her eyes away from _him _and walked on, holding her head high, even while lost in the past. How she wanted that past back. True, she wasn't under the influence of hidden programs now, she wasn't forced to betray her friends and shipmates, wasn't constantly fighting with herself, with who she was. But whatever stance Sharon had used to confirm her and Six's standing about Cylon superiority, she still secretly wished she really was a flesh and blood human.

Being a Cylon was empowering, but complicating.

* * *

She found his tent easily enough –they had ordered Baltar to give them a complete census of the citizens of New Caprica –apparently, although the fleet had left, it didn't really matter. Sharon felt a pang of sadness as she realized that _Galactica _has become nothing more than a skeleton ship now. She could still smell the musty scent of the inside of a Raptor, taste the disgusting, "nutritious" crap they had to eat. 

Feel the sensation of Tyrol's hands working its way up her arm, how his hands on her shoulder made her shiver.

Sharon shuddered as a rush of biting wind blew past, releasing her hair into the sky. She was close now, to Tyrol's tent. He'll be there, she knows he will –they had made the order that all humans should go back to their tent, after all.

"Sharon,"

Turning around slowly, Sharon put on a stony, stern mask. She could only handle one reunion today –two would be one too many. Instead of answering or showing recognition in the slightest, she merely allowed Starbuck to talk, debating on whether or not she should order her back to her tent.

However, Kara didn't say anything, and the silence was really starting to unnerve Sharon. "I'm not 'Sharon'," she corrected evenly, "I'm a Number Eight." It hurt her so much to say it, but she had to.

Kara seemed just as indecisive as her. She bit her lip, surprising Sharon with the uncertainty in her eyes. Starbuck had always been the confident, brash Top Gun, someone Sharon had always admired for her Viper skills. She had known her pretty well, and even considered Kara as something of a sister.

"What the frak are you doing here?" Kara demanded finally, but there was no hatred in her eyes.

Sharon had half a mind to get a centurion to throw her back to her tent. Starbuck was deterring her.

"We're here to help," she responded neutrally.

To her surprise, Kara scoffed. "Yeah frakking right."

Sharon flared up in anger. "You dare talk to me like this?" she asked, remembering the sacrifices she had made, the two attempts to end her own life, all for loyalty to _Galactica, _to Tyrol, to humanity. How dare Kara question her motives? Sharon's fought herself, her frakking _programming _every step of the way until the impulse to shoot Adama became too much for her fragile mental state.

The guilt still ate at her, even now.

Kara watched Sharon's inner battle curiously. "You're our Sharon, aren't you?" she asked, though by the way she was looking at Sharon, she already knew the answer to this question.

Sharon sighed. "Get back to your tent, Kara," she said tiredly, exhausted already by the siege of memories this encounter alone has brought. "You wouldn't want to get in trouble."

Once again, Kara displayed her trademark risk-taking by grinning. "But getting in trouble is what I do best –you know that, Sharon."

"Please don't call me that," Sharon said quietly. As much as she'd insisted on being called her human name –frak it, her name, _period _–now, to hear it coming from the lips of someone she'd betrayed . . . she didn't deserve to have a name, to be considered a human. At least, not by Kara, not by someone so close to Adama. No doubt Adama despises all Model Eights because of her now.

She wondered what had happened to the baby, the one the _other _Sharon had with Helo. The thought of it still blew her mind. In a way, she was envious of the other Sharon, that she was able to have Helo's love, both of them knowing full well what she was, and be able to start a family with him, the way Sharon had always thought she'd do with Tyrol.

"You're Sharon," Kara told her resolutely, "You're Boomer. That will never change."

Sharon regarded Kara, wondering why Starbuck didn't hate her. Everyone else did, after she'd shot Adama, and she highly doubted anybody mourned her after she'd died, despite the history she'd had with the crew. It was amazing how quickly human opinion can change. One day, she was a hero, one of them, and the next she was a traitor, a toaster.

Her jaw clenched as she remembered how it felt as her blood rushed out of her body, the cold of dying. Cally. From what she'd gathered, the specialist had only gotten a slap on the wrist for her murder.

And she didn't even have hidden programs. Cally had murdered her out of her own free will.

"We won't accept totalitarianism, you know," Kara stated, interrupting her thoughts. "We'll fight until we can't fight any more."

Sharon sighed. "It's different now; we're trying to help you. I mean, look around –this place is frakked up."

Kara nodded. "I know. But you know us, Sharon –we never stop fighting."

"I did," Sharon said, suddenly bitter, "I fought, and I lost –I shot the man I admire the most." She laughed. "Some frakked up human I made, huh?"

"Yeah," Kara said distantly, "But you were human all the same."

She was touched; she tried not to be, but for the first time in a long while, Sharon felt a little of that burdensome guilt lift.

"We really want to help," Sharon said, now pleading with Kara. She didn't know if she could stand it if the Cylons and the humans were at odds again, if she had to fight familiar faces. "We're not here to enslave you; I would never let that happen, not to you guys."

Starbuck nodded. "I believe you, but not the rest of the toast –Cylons. I hope that you'll remember that you're more human than you think, if it ever comes to . . ." she trailed off and stuck her hand out. Slightly stunned, Sharon grasped Kara's rough hands and shook it, feeling a sense of déjà vu as she remembered a similar pact she had made with Six a year ago.

Kara smiled a little sadly before retreating back to her tent, leaving Sharon feeling more uncertain than she's ever been in the past year combined. Why had Kara practically warned her of a stirring revolution? Did she hope that Sharon could be an established sleeper agent within the Cylons, as she'd been within _Galactica_? She couldn't. There was no way . . . they were better now, they were going to help them. But she also felt tied to all the pilots of the _Galactica, _to everyone she had sworn to protect with every dangerous mission on her beloved Raptor.

She had a foot in both worlds, and it was going to be frakking hard to reconcile them both.

Sharon blinked. She hadn't even noticed her feet guiding her; the uncertainty, the familiar inner battles immediately intensified as confronting Tyrol loomed even closer. Sighing, Sharon opened her mouth to "knock", realizing that barging in on his home probably wasn't the best of ideas.

"Chief?" she said tentatively. When there was no answer, she cleared her suddenly parched throat and repeated louder, "Chief!"

Sharon nearly jumped as a sentimentally familiar hand reached out to pull aside the flap blocking Sharon from Tyrol. Slowly, the hand extended to an arm, then a shoulder, and finally to Galen Tyrol.

"Yes?" he said, deceptively neutral.

Now that the moment had come, Sharon found her vocal chords unable to work. Instead, she just gaped at him in a very un-sophisticated, unflattering fashion.

It had been so long since she'd seen him. She hungrily soaked in his changed appearance, the beard that hadn't been there when he was with her. It was so strange to see him outside of his bright orange jumpsuit; it just didn't suit him.

"_Yes?_" he repeated severely, contempt clearly in his voice.

Sharon flinched. He really didn't care; he didn't care that she was alive. Now that he knows what she is, he doesn't love her anymore. Now, in her state of doubt, she wasn't sure if he ever did.

God, she was such a coward. All Sharon wanted to do right now was bolt, go back to her Cylon comforts and distance herself from all the uncomfortable aspects of humanity while she had the chance.

Tyrol was staring at her now and –was that a flicker of concern in his eyes? –probably wondered what a dumbfounded Cylon was doing on his doorstep. Another uncomfortable moment passed between them, and still Tyrol did nothing. Well, Sharon supposed it wasn't really in his power to kick her out; after all, the Cylons now occupied his new home.

"Who is it?" a familiar female voice asked from inside the tent.

Sharon watched in interest as the Chief's eyes suddenly froze in fear, his eyes meeting Sharon's.

To Sharon's disgust, Cally showed up beside Tyrol, her eyes narrowed and blazing as she regarded their visitor. Still partially hidden behind Tyrol, she began to go around him, as if trying to protect Tyrol from the toaster who had broken his heart and caused his nightmares.

"_You_." Cally spat, gazing at Sharon with repulsion in her eyes, looking at her like she was a disgusting piece of garbage.

"Me," Sharon replied coldly, finding her voice perfectly normal now that the murderess had shown up.

Then, she saw it.

Cally's stomach was bulging far too much to just be some pounds she had put on or even a pot belly. God, it was worse than she thought; this was a far more severe torture than finding out Tyrol had died on _Galactica_. She was pregnant. Oh, God, this was Tyrol's child! With _Cally, _if all people!

Sharon growled deep within her throat. This child should be hers. Hers and Tyrol's, not . . . not Cally's . . .

"Her? You married _her, _the bitch who murdered me!" Sharon shrieked, feeling an animalistic fury unlike any other rising up inside her. She wanted so bad to pummel Cally, to shoot _her_, to have this all be one big lie. But something stopped her from completely losing control.

"Sharon?"

Slowly, her anger subsided as Tyrol uttered her name, not in anger or hate, but as if she were a novelty, something that had once been lost, only to return.

As if she were his lover.

"Yes," she said softly, "I'm Boomer."


End file.
